Page 4 of Prince Un-Charming

Suddenly, it gets difficult to breathe. I blink away the incoming tears and push off the wall. Glancing at my wristwatch, I realize that nearly ten minutes have passed and there’s still no sign of Caesar anywhere. He hasn’t entered the banquet hall with the rest of the guests.

“He’s with someone,” I whisper to myself. The realization leaves a bitter aftertaste on my tongue. The tightness in my chest intensifies. “This always happens. Always.”

Clenching my fists, I storm down the hallway with the intention of dragging him out of whatever hole he’s hiding in and shoving him into the spotlight. He’s supposed to be helping Prince Alex with the event, not screwing someone in the shadows and completely ignoring his duties.

Sheesh, Vivienne. Where’s all this anger coming from?

In a word? Entitlement.

I flinch suddenly, hearing slamming doors behind me. Turning around, I’m met with a wave of panicked faces as the kitchen staff and attendees start trickling out toward me in the hallway.

Something doesn’t seem right. Hushed murmurs follow, which makes it difficult to hear what’s going on out in the main hall.

Just as I’m about to join the rest of the crowd, Aurora reappears. The light has left her eyes and there’s hardly any color to her face.

“Vivienne,” she rasps, reaching out for my wrist and tugging me away. “Have you found Caesar? This is urgent.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Something happened to King Francis. I heard some of the details. They’re saying he’s suffered a stroke. The princes are needed back at the palace immediately. He might not make it.”

Oh, God. King Francis might be dying? The pit in my stomach deepens further.

Aurora stops suddenly, jolting me to a halt soon afterward. “Can you find him? He’s needed. Now.”

“I’ll do my best.” Shit. I don’t even know where to start looking for him. “What’s going to happen to the event?”

“We’re postponing.” Aurora wipes the back of her hand across her sweaty forehead. “This is the worst possible thing that could’ve happened right now. I have to figure out how to get all these people out of here without anyone losing a limb in the process.”

“Good luck,” I reply earnestly, patting her on the shoulder.

“You, too. Caesar’s a vanishing act if I’ve ever seen one,” she mumbles before hurrying off.

As much as I don’t like degrading my boss, she’s got a point. It pisses me off how accurate that statement is.

Soon enough, I’m blazing down every hallway in the building, yelling Caesar’s name and nearly rolling my ankle on a few occasions. I stop a few staff members and ask if they’ve seen the Prince, but they all shrug.

We’re all running around like a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off. It’s pitiful. I’m pitiful.

Eventually, I make it to the last spot that I still haven’t checked. Considering Caesar isn’t anywhere else in this building, he has to be here in this bathroom.

I enter the bathroom quietly to a quiet symphony of moans. From across the bathroom entrance, which seems more like a lounge, I catch a glimpse of my disheveled state in the mirror.

My curls are out of place. My clothes are wrinkled. And there’s a seething fury hidden behind my dark glare that peaks the moment I hear those high-pitched moans.

“Prince Caesar!” A breathy scream resounds, followed by animalistic shrieks.

I punch one of the cubicle doors open, revealing a fully-dressed Prince Caesar being embraced by a blonde woman with her skirt on the ground.

I stare in the mirror instead of him, averting my gaze at the sight of this sloppy bacchanalia. If looks could kill, the scene in this bathroom would be a damn massacre.

“Caesar, are you just going to let this happen?” the blonde shrieks.

“Get off me, Imelda. Get dressed.”

“But…” She pouts like a spoiled child, which makes me even more enraged.

Caesar leans down, balls up her skirt, and shoves the slip of fabric to her chest. Meanwhile, I’m keeping my distance while they sort themselves out.

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